The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,70

me in heroic detail. A kid in a black bandana tried to grab his sign, so he walloped him upside the head. When the kid ducked under and tackled Vernon to the ground, the doctor reached out and grabbed a handful of nose, twisting as hard as he could. The kid yelped and scrambled to his feet, disappearing into the fray, leaving Vernon in possession of his bandana.

“I didn’t even feel this,” he says, pointing to the cut on his forehead.

We’re the last ones to reach the bus. Barber pauses on the steps. “A fight broke out at the peace rally. Sounds like the setup for a joke.”

Chas waves him inside, then funnels the rest of us through. As Jed and Marlene ascend, I notice her hand clasping his. I’m the last one to get on apart from Chas.

“Well,” he says “are you glad you came? Would you do it again?”

“Would I do it again? Probably not. Am I glad I came? It’s been quite an experience, so yes, I suppose I am.”

As I walk down the aisle toward the back, Marlene rests her head on Jed’s shoulder. All the anxiety he expressed in the Lincoln Memorial seems to have vanished. He smiles up at me, confident. I give his shoulder a squeeze. Not every surprise your children throw at you is a disappointment.

You have surprised me, Jed, but so far, I like what I see.

chapter 13

Bad Habit

Sounds like you had quite a time,” Holly says. “You should have invited me along.”

“I’m not sure you would have enjoyed it.”

“Why not? Am I not cool enough for your new friends?”

“Honey, even I’m not cool enough for them.”

We’re sitting by the window at one of our favorite lunch cafés, watching the rain pelt the outdoor furniture on the patio where we usually sit. The weather has taken a turn. It’s wet and cold outside and people are finally reconciling themselves to the end of a long Indian summer, wearing sweaters and scarves and raincoats as they dash from the parking lot into the restaurant. Holly sports a tailored tweed jacket, looking very equestrian, and this morning I dug out my favorite thrift-store find, a beat-up double-breasted leather coat from the seventies, hip-length and nipped at the waist.

The waitress brings our salads, more bread, another tea for Holly, who keeps sucking them down. “They put too much ice in these things,” she says once the girl is gone. “Anyway, I’m sorry things didn’t go better with Eli. I should have warned you. Kids these days? They’re all libertarians. They don’t want anyone telling them what they can or cannot do. As long as they’re not violating anybody else’s freedom, the government—and their parents—should just butt out.”

“Now you tell me. Are they libertarians, or just teenagers?”

“You think there’s a difference?” She smiles. “Don’t tell Eric I said that. He’s been testy ever since he got home.”

“Is it serious?”

She seesaws her hand. “Kinda, sorta. We go through phases. I guess that’s normal, right? The thing is, ninety percent of the time, the two of us are in sync. We’re not navel-gazers, Beth. We don’t psychoanalyze our relationship. That’s how my mother was, and I couldn’t stand it, always badgering my dad about his feelings, upset that he didn’t share enough. Me, I look at marriage differently. I want it to be a source of comfort, not anxiety. The best way to get that is to leave the scabs alone.”

“That’s not always easy. I’ve been picking at mine.”

“You have an excuse. I mean, I can hardly complain to you about Eric, can I? It’s not like he’s living in the backyard.”

“So what is he doing?”

“Little things. For example, he was giving me a hard time about my hours at the church. Every time we reclaim another section of that warehouse, he gets hit up for another donation. Usually, he likes it. The thing about Eric is, he wants to give money away. He loves doing it. He loves being able to help. And if he doesn’t have the money, he’ll go out and find it. All of a sudden, though, he’s complaining about getting calls from the pastoral staff. He’s acting like it’s my fault, like I’m trying to drain him by adding on to the building.”

“You’re the one trying to put the brakes on the crazy spending.”

“I know, right? They’d have gold thrones on stage if it wasn’t for me.” She laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean. Every time